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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990524">Do as I say, not as I’ve done</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping'>prototyping</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Byleth talks a lot, Dimitri is a(n even bigger) mess, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I just like writing him in those in-between mental states the game doesn’t go into ok, does anyone else actually check the platonic dimileth tag even, it's pretty platonic but ofc there are hints, there are always hints</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:42:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,016</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With Dimitri in a bad place after the events at Gronder Field, Byleth opens up to him about her past in the hopes of pulling him out of it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Do as I say, not as I’ve done</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>“Your hands are so warm... Have they always been?”</i>
</p>
<p>Dimitri doesn’t speak a word after that, leaving Byleth with the tasks of giving the order for the army to set up camp, assigning the perimeter guards, speaking with the returning scouts, and ultimately making the decision to return to the monastery for the time being. She decided she would face his objection if he had one, but she was right in guessing he didn’t. She doesn’t even see him again until the following morning, when he takes his usual position at the head of the company. He’s silent, and looks at no one.</p>
<p>The return journey to Garreg Mach is a quiet one, at least compared with the aggression that their forces set out with before. As they pass through the gates, Dimitri steers his horse closer to hers and makes the quiet, toneless remark that he’ll speak to her and the rest of the council later. Before Byleth can respond, he breaks away from the group and disappears.</p>
<p>She takes him at his word, but when the sun starts to set and no one seems to have heard from him since then, she starts to worry. He isn’t in the cathedral or the knights’ hall, nor at the training grounds, so she checks his quarters last and finds him, a still shadow in the corner of his dark room who doesn’t so much as budge at her intrusion.</p>
<p>For a moment she stands there at the entrance, awaiting a sign of rejection or hostility, but it never comes. She closes the door behind her and moves closer.</p>
<p>It’s a depressingly empty space, long since stripped of anything of value by refugees or thieves. If there are candles present, they’re unlit, but there’s enough faint twilight filtering through the dusty windows for her to note Dimitri’s exhausted slump. Seated on the floor, he’s slow to raise his head and look at her, but he holds her gaze once he finds it.</p>
<p>She’s reminded of when she first found him at the Tower months ago, a dead man in every sense except the angry pulse that kept his body moving.</p>
<p>Byleth settles on her knees to join him, watching him with a kind expression.</p>
<p>“We were worried about you,” she says quietly. It isn’t angry or criticizing. Just honest.</p>
<p>“I needed time. To think.” His voice is rough and halting as though he hasn’t used it in a long time. “I’m sorry,” he adds with a thoughtful frown, almost as an afterthought.</p>
<p>“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re…” The word <i>okay</i> dies on her tongue. Dimitri <i>isn’t</i> okay. He hasn’t been <i>okay</i> in a long time.</p>
<p>Instead she finishes, “Take all the time you need. We have things under control.” That isn’t totally honest—if he takes too long to decide on their next course of action, she’ll be back and bothering him again—but for now he can rest and think, the two things he probably needs most.</p>
<p>He drops his gaze with a low sound that might be a grunt of agreement. It might be a dismissal, too, but Byleth lingers. She can’t tell if leaving him alone will help or hurt him; she doesn’t know whether her presence makes a difference to him either way.</p>
<p>She can’t read him anymore.</p>
<p>When Dimitri remains silent and gives her no clue as to what he wants, she decides she would rather have her help rejected than not give it at all. Climbing back to her feet, she offers him a hand and a hopeful smile.</p>
<p>“You’ll rest better if you get out of that armor.” He doesn't immediately respond, so she nudges gently, “You don’t have to be a soldier every minute of the day, you know.”</p>
<p>He takes her hand and Byleth helps him up, holding back a grunt when he grips her fingers too tightly. It must show on her face, because he lets go instantly and mutters,</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I’m… not in the habit of curbing my strength these days.”</p>
<p>She believes it. She’s noticed the crushed knobs on his door, how the reins on his new horse are already worn thin and torn in two, the way his enemies on the battlefield crumple when he cuts so deep that he severs their spines—</p>
<p>“Do you have a change of clothes?” she asks, already turning aside to the dresser.</p>
<p>She stares out a window while he changes. There’s hardly any sunlight left, but hues of red and orange still cling to the edge of fading pink. The sunset from the other day comes to mind once again and her chest feels a little heavier.</p>
<p>She didn’t know Rodrigue all that well, but she knew him enough to recognize that the world lost a good man—and Dimitri, a good father. If Felix feels anything over it either way, she can’t tell. He’s been as impassive as always.</p>
<p>“Why are you here?” Dimitri asks suddenly.</p>
<p>Byleth takes that as permission to turn around. He looks smaller in casual clothes despite that he still towers over her. His posture is stiff and awkward as though he doesn’t know what to do with himself when standing idle.</p>
<p>“To check on you,” she replies, puzzled by the question.</p>
<p>“No, why are you…<i>here</i>?” he reiterates. “Still? Seeking my counsel? Following my lead? You speak as though you’re awaiting my next orders—what reason do you have to heed them at this point?”</p>
<p>The last question is sharp, agitated, but he looks away as he speaks and it’s clear that Byleth isn’t the one he’s angry at. He sounds as though he’s been wanting to ask this for a while.</p>
<p>After a moment he wonders, quietly,</p>
<p>“How far do you intend to go, just to serve a foolish prince?”</p>
<p>She isn’t sure whether he’s speaking out of frustration or honestly questioning her character, but her answer is the same either way.</p>
<p>“If I ever meet a foolish prince, I’ll let you know.” When he looks at her again, she frowns. “I thought you would know that this isn’t about politics, Dimitri. I follow you because I fully believe you’re the king this broken country needs—but I support you because I’m pretty sure that’s what friends <i>do.</i>”</p>
<p>Up until Garreg Mach, she had no friends and couldn’t have explained what it meant to be one. Then she met her students… and of all of them, there was one who took to her the quickest, the warmest, who at times seemed to understand her better than she understood herself, and who trusted her with the sensitive parts of himself—the intimate and vulnerable as well as the raw and ugly—more than anyone else did.</p>
<p>She’s no expert on the matter, but abandoning him now, when he clearly needs her the most, seems like it would make everything else she’s done for him meaningless.</p>
<p>When Dimitri doesn’t answer for a long moment, she asks, “Do you think I’m lying?”</p>
<p>“No. I know your words are sincere, and that’s exactly what I don’t—” He stops himself as his angry voice starts to shake.</p>
<p>Byleth regrets that she didn’t come to him sooner. It’s only been a few hours but even that was too long, too much opportunity for the darkness in him to play with his mind and pull at his heart. Too much room for doubt to sink its claws into him.</p>
<p>Finally spying a candle, she silently steps aside and calls a flame to the wick with a quick wave of her hand. The room is a little brighter when she turns back to him, but the shadow under his eye is darker than ever.</p>
<p>If she thought it was hard to read his body language, his face is even more difficult. He looks exhausted, his expression grim and distracted, his good eye narrow and distant. Some of the things that those five years etched deep into his features are now gone—the stony, icy countenance, the disregard, the glimpses of unstable cruelty and blind rage—but the pain and uncertainty clearly remain.</p>
<p>She can’t tell if he’s looking at her or through her, whether he’s thinking anything at all or just lost in the voices and memories in his head. Perhaps that ambiguity is his intention, but she doubts it. Most likely, he’s just too overwhelmed, too shattered, to do anything but shut down and keep his mess of emotions bottled up and hidden from her.</p>
<p>She sets the candle on the bedside table, and then given the lack of chairs sits on the edge of the bed. “Sit with me?” she invites when he doesn’t move.</p>
<p>He concedes after some hesitation, that hard-to-read expression unmoving as he joins her. Byleth looks at him openly and hopes her own expression isn’t too anxious.</p>
<p>“Dimitri… if I stayed with you before, when I disagreed with your choices and methods, is it really surprising that I’m still here now, when I’m finally seeing the real you again?”</p>
<p>“There was never a false ‘me,’ ” he answers gruffly. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been—it was entirely of my own volition. I simply weighed the value of the dead against the living and it was no contest.” He looks down at her, something in his stern features softening. “If you’re looking for a reason to forgive me, I have none.”</p>
<p>She turns towards him with a sad frown. “I don’t want excuses—or apologies. I don’t want anything from you. I just…” Her hands ball into fists in her lap. It isn’t like her to get emotional, especially during a conversation, but she can’t help it. Seeing him like this hurts. It’s not the worst pain she’s felt—it isn’t sharp and grating, like her father’s death—but it’s close. It’s a throbbing ache locked deep in her chest, a blend of remorse and regret, pity and concern. She’s felt it since their reunion, but never so heavily as this, a swelling pressure threatening to slowly crush the air from her lungs.</p>
<p>She feels like she could cry. She wants to take her sword to every person responsible for Dimitri’s pain, cutting them down without thought or feeling like she used to. She considers apologizing to <i>him</i> for not being there to save him from himself.</p>
<p>Losing Jeralt was simpler, in a way. That was all grief and rage, with nothing to do but move forward without him.</p>
<p>Mourning someone still alive is much more complicated.</p>
<p>Dimitri waits for her to finish, and eventually she finds the words.</p>
<p>“All I want… is to see you smile again, like you used to.”</p>
<p>In truth, it goes so much deeper than that. She wants to hear his warm laugh again, to see his face light up when he sees her like it once did. She wants him to sit and chat with their friends, to worry about small and stupid things like chastising Sylvain’s behavior and apologizing for breaking another training lance and being a few seconds late to class. She wants to talk with him over tea about anything and everything and nothing at all. She wants to know that she can walk out of this room and be sure that she’ll see him again tomorrow, alive and well.</p>
<p>She wants a lot of things, but seeing his smile would be a promising start.</p>
<p>Dimitri looks away. “You assume I have the right.”</p>
<p>“Who says you don’t?”</p>
<p>“Who says I <i>do?</i>” he counters in a growl, but there’s sadness in his tone. “The countless people I struck down? Those I failed to protect?” His hands grasp his thighs so hard his knuckles turn white. His arms shake. “Perhaps all our soldiers who died for the sake of my selfish ambition? Or the comrades who have seen the worst parts of me, and who despise me if they have any—”</p>
<p>Byleth places her hand on his arm. He falls silent immediately.</p>
<p>“I say so.”</p>
<p>Dimitri’s head turns sharply, but Byleth doesn’t so much as flinch. She holds his hard, searching gaze for the few seconds before he drops it, sighing listlessly.</p>
<p>“I don’t know where your optimism comes from, Professor.” He sounds tired, almost defeated. “Nor your mercy. But if you knew—if you had seen the things I…”</p>
<p><i>I</i> have <i>seen</i>, she thinks. <i>The way you kill… the thrill you seem to take from it, even though you’re never really satisfied…</i></p>
<p>Slowly, Byleth withdraws her hand. Dimitri holds his breath.</p>
<p>“You know… I don’t remember much of my life before the monastery,” she says after a pause. “Just that… I fought a lot. Trained a lot. We traveled constantly, my father and I. It was always one assignment after another, for as long as I can remember.” She stares at the opposite wall as she speaks, but in the corner of her eye Dimitri is still. He’s listening.</p>
<p>“I don’t remember the first person I killed. I couldn’t tell you how many I killed after that. But while my father was known as the Bladebreaker, do you know what they called me?”</p>
<p>Dimitri’s head turns a little more in her direction.</p>
<p>“The Ashen Demon,” Byleth answers. “Because I struck down my enemies without mercy or emotion. I didn’t seem human to some people. Considering I can’t recall a single face among those I killed back then, I figure the name’s a fair one.” She laces her fingers in her lap. “I know you noticed it, back at the start. You told me you did.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t reply. The hardness in his face is gone, but she still can’t quite read him. He looks grimly thoughtful, his stare analyzing.</p>
<p>“Even though I was fighting for survival,” she goes on, “who’s to say I was always in the right? Maybe I killed when I should have tried talking. Maybe I hurt the wrong people. I’ll never know. And even so, I don’t really feel anything over it.” She gives a small, defeated shrug. “I don’t know what that says about me, but I can’t bring myself to sympathize with the unknown like that. Not when it’s so far behind me.”</p>
<p>Those words hang in the air for a long moment.</p>
<p>“But you can,” she says gently, “and you do. I remember how much the idea of killing bothered you. You always questioned the way things were done. You hoped for a better, peaceful way. Deep down, I don’t think that’s changed at all.”</p>
<p>His eye narrows.</p>
<p>“So before you say that you’re some kind of monster who can’t change… well, having been a monster myself, I don’t think you’re as hopeless as you seem to think. You’ve always done what you thought was right, in one way or another. That’s more than I can say.”</p>
<p>Byleth ends her story there, returning her attention to her hands. She’s not trying to preach and she isn’t saying either one of them had it worse. She just wants Dimitri to know she isn’t the model of morality that he seems to think she is, that he isn’t alone in having made questionable choices.</p>
<p>As often as he’s brushed her off and outright ignored her recently, she isn’t expecting much in the way of a reply. For about a minute she doesn’t get one, but then—</p>
<p>“You really didn’t have any emotions… did you, Professor? When we first met.” It doesn’t sound like an accusation, or even all that surprised.</p>
<p>“No. Not until I met—I got to know all of you,” she corrects, and raises her head to find that he’s looking straight again. His eyepatch makes his expression even harder to read from this angle.</p>
<p>“Why do you think that was?” he asks quietly.</p>
<p>Byleth shrugs again. “I’ve wondered myself. There was just… something about all of you. You all were the first friends I ever had. It was the first time I felt protective of other people—and I didn’t just want to protect you in battle, either. I wanted to see all of you succeed and be happy. Whenever any of you were hurt, I was angry. I felt happy and sad with you. It was… new, and strange, and sometimes unnerving, to be honest. But I found myself grateful for those bonds all the same.”</p>
<p>She watches his face. “And then… when my father died, that was the worst day of my life. I didn’t know I could hurt like that. I didn’t know how to handle it. Looking back now… if I hadn’t come to the monastery, I wonder if his death would have really mattered to me at all.” She breathes in deep and holds it. “At first, I thought… the weight of that sadness would kill me. The pain was so intense… it felt like I was dying. Like something was wrong with me and wouldn’t heal.</p>
<p>“And then you told me that it was alright to cry,” she recalls calmly. “You said I wasn’t weak, that nothing was wrong with me. That what I felt was normal. And you promised that I would eventually stop crying.” Dimitri still doesn’t move. She can’t tell if he’s even breathing. “I think,” she goes on slowly, “if anyone else had said that to me, I wouldn’t have believed it. But because it was you, I knew it was true. I knew I would heal, one day.”</p>
<p>The urge to reach out and touch Dimitri again is strong—his shoulder, his hand, anything to maybe elicit a response to say he’s listening, but Byleth resists. Instead, she says one last thing in hopes that he’ll take it to heart, if nothing else:</p>
<p>“So don’t tell me you shouldn’t be happy, Dimitri. Not when you’re such a big part of the reason that I know what being happy <i>is.</i>”</p>
<p>He suddenly drops his chin towards his chest, but he’s otherwise motionless. That’s good enough for Byleth. She’s not sure what else she can say, or if she should try, so even that bit of acknowledgement is something.</p>
<p>Whether it’s something good or bad, only Dimitri knows.</p>
<p>They sit in silence.</p>
<p>Byleth doesn’t rush him. She stays perfectly still, totally quiet. Ready to support him in whatever way she can.</p>
<p>She only has to wait a few minutes.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much about yourself,” he points out. His voice is too low for her to make out his tone.</p>
<p>She gives a low, short hum. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to…”</p>
<p>“No. I’m… glad.” He pauses, as if the word is strange on his tongue. “I wonder… how it is that people like us come so far, walking paths of bloodshed… while some of the kindest people we know die such young and pointless deaths.”</p>
<p>Byleth can’t tell if it’s a rhetorical question or not, but after reflecting on it a moment, she answers, anyway.</p>
<p>“Maybe we walk it because someone has to.” Now she does give into the urge: she settles her hand lightly atop his. “We’re still alive. If we let their memory guide us to where they wanted us to be when they were alive… I think that prevents their deaths from being pointless, in the end.”</p>
<p>She hears him breathe in, low and sharp. The bed creaks as he sits up a little straighter and she thinks he’s going to stand, but he remains where he is, seeming to look anywhere but at her.</p>
<p>“You… truly believe that?” he whispers.</p>
<p>“I want to. That’s part of why I’ll keep moving forward.” Her fingertips run lightly over his scarred knuckles. “But that’s just me. Only you can decide what it is you want.”</p>
<p>“What I…”</p>
<p>After a long moment Dimitri looks down at their hands, and then slowly turns to her. Byleth meets his gaze unwavering, determined to be the solidarity to all the uncertainty and wistfulness and pain that she sees in it.</p>
<p>She’s not sure how long they sit like that, but Dimitri is the first to look away.</p>
<p>“To be honest,” he says quietly, “I’ve been thinking about that ever since…” He swallows. “For… a while now. I’m still not sure I have an answer.”</p>
<p>“That’s alright. All of us will be here when you do.”</p>
<p>He nods, the movement distracted.</p>
<p>Byleth waits another few minutes. When Dimitri doesn’t speak, she decides she’s probably given him enough to mull over. “Get some rest,” she urges kindly. “You’ll think more clearly after a good night’s sleep.”</p>
<p>He nods again, slower this time.</p>
<p>She starts to stand, but stops herself at the last second. The council isn’t meeting until the morning. She won’t be needed anywhere until then.</p>
<p>“Not that I don’t trust you… but I can stay,” she offers. “If you think it will help.”</p>
<p>After Jeralt was killed, her sleep was plagued with nightmares for two weeks straight, and occasionally after that. She’s not sure if it's a common occurrence when losing a loved one, but if so, Dimitri might find some comfort in her presence. At the very least, she can stay until he falls asleep.</p>
<p>“I…”</p>
<p>Before Dimitri can finish, she adds, “It’s no trouble. Honest.”</p>
<p>He glances at her, only holding her gaze for a couple beats before lowering his head in apology. “Then… please do.” She’s not sure she’s ever heard him sound so vulnerable.</p>
<p>Byleth claims the corner of the mattress near the headboard, knees drawn up to make herself comfortable. Dimitri lies beside her, atop his blankets and with his back to her, and for a while she watches him—the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional idle movement as he shifts his weight.</p>
<p>It’s hard to tell how much time passes. It’s completely dark outside now, although voices and footsteps still pass by in the hallway. After dinner, most likely, Byleth thinks, and she briefly debates trying to talk Dimitri into some food before quickly dismissing the thought. One step at a time.</p>
<p>She tilts her head back and closes her eyes. Despite her friend’s somber state, she feels the most at peace since waking on the riverbank months ago. Dimitri may still be broken, but at least now he has a real chance at mending.</p>
<p>She realizes she can’t recall the last time she really, truly rested well without some concern or another haunting her thoughts at night. Before her father’s death, surely. Perhaps the night of the monastery’s ball… Everything was so simple then, so happy. After the tragedy that shortly followed, Byleth turned some of her anger inward, frustrated at herself for ever thinking she could let her guard down. She was a mercenary through and through, and yet… when it really counted, she failed, softened by the prospect of a safe, civilian life.</p>
<p>She holds in her sigh as she pushes those thoughts away. Tonight isn’t about her. Her regrets run deep, but at least their scars have had time to heal. Dimitri’s are still raw and bleeding, as perhaps they always have been.</p>
<p>His breathing is too light and uneven to indicate that he’s asleep. That doesn’t stop Byleth from reaching over and setting a gentle hand on his head. She feels a shock of tension shoot through him, but it fades just as quickly. He doesn’t move or speak.</p>
<p>Slowly, carefully, she combs her fingers through his hair, mindful of the tangles and mats so that she doesn’t tug. For a moment she’s not sure how or why such a gesture came to mind, but then it hits her: a blurry, brief memory of being held in Rhea’s arms, the Archbishop’s soft hands smoothing her hair back while her melodious voice whispers words of comfort.</p>
<p><i>Is</i> it a memory? Or a dream? Perhaps she’s misremembering entirely.</p>
<p>Her eyes drift closed again as she goes on stroking his hair. After a while, it occurs to her that his breaths have slowed and turned heavy.</p>
<p>She doesn’t realize she’s fallen asleep until a sound jolts her out of it. Instinctively she bolts upright, grasping for the sword that isn’t currently at her side and blinking her vision into focus in the low light.</p>
<p>Dimitri’s sitting in the middle of the bed, back hunched and head hanging with his hands buried in his hair. He’s panting like he just ran a mile and Byleth realizes the whole bed is shaking.</p>
<p>“Dimitri?” When he doesn’t answer, she gingerly touches his trembling shoulder. His shirt is soaked through with sweat. “Dimitri,” she repeats more firmly. “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>She feels him twitch. His breathing slows. “Nothing,” he murmurs, voice low and thick. “Just... a dream.”</p>
<p>Byleth lets out the breath she’s holding. “You’re alright now. You’re awake.” Once again his only reply is silence, so she just runs her hand along his back in hopes of working some of the tautness out of it. She doesn’t go any lower than his shoulder blades, wary of agitating his wound from Gronder. It should be mostly healed thanks to Mercedes’ diligent efforts, but as deep as it was, she isn’t taking chances.</p>
<p>“Dimitri,” she tries after a few minutes. “Are you okay?”</p>
<p>He just shakes his head, and she’s not sure if that’s a <i>no</i> or an attempt to clear his mind. She slides down the bed to sit beside him, still rubbing his back. “Do you want to talk about it?”</p>
<p>“No. It’s…” He runs a hand over his face. He exhales, short and heavy.</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” she assures him softly. “You can tell me another time, if you want.”</p>
<p>She starts to stand, only to stop when he catches the sleeve of her coat. The question in his tired face is clear, but she just smiles and strokes his hair again. “I’m not going far.”</p>
<p>After retrieving a dry shirt, she talks him into changing out of his current one. She flips his damp pillow over, guides him back into place with a gentle hand, and then after removing her coat and belt without preamble she lies down beside him.</p>
<p>It’s a testament to how exhausted and rattled Dimitri is, perhaps, that he doesn’t question or object; there’s a moment of mild surprise on his face, but then his eye closes and his broad shoulders relax.</p>
<p>Byleth folds her arm under her head, studying his face as she endeavors to stay awake. Should his nightmares strike again, hopefully she can wake him up before they get too bad.</p>
<p>Try as she might, her eyes eventually get heavy. She props her hand on his side, figuring she’ll at least feel him shaking if it comes to that, but then her mind becomes hazy and it just makes more sense to slip her arm around him completely—and then to move closer, since he’s so warm.</p>
<p>She’s too drowsy to think much of when she feels him mirror the gesture, and the sensation of his breath against her hair is a reassuring one because it’s controlled and even like the sound of his heart as her head rests against his chest.</p>
<p>In what feels like no time at all, she opens her eyes to the glow of dawn on the bedroom walls. She lies there for a while in their light tangle of limbs, urging herself awake with thoughts of all the things to be done today. When Dimitri shows no sign of waking even then, Byleth does her best to withdraw without disturbing him—and only makes it as far as sitting up halfway when he gives a startled grunt, the arm around her waist tightening.</p>
<p>“Professor?”</p>
<p>“It’s still early,” she says quietly. “Go back to sleep.” After a moment he relaxes, allowing her to climb out of the bed.</p>
<p>She’s pulling on her coat when he speaks again.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for keeping you.”</p>
<p>She turns to find him watching her. The shadow under his eye is gone. His solemn face is the most peaceful she’s seen it in a long time.</p>
<p>“Don’t be,” she says simply. After stepping into her boots, she asks, “Is it alright if I check on you in a little while?”</p>
<p>Dimitri stares at the ceiling for a few beats. “That won’t be necessary,” he says finally. “I intend to speak with everyone soon.”</p>
<p>“You’ve decided what to do, then?”</p>
<p>He draws a slow, deep breath. “You will be the first to know,” he promises.</p>
<p>That’s good enough for her. She stops at the bedside to gaze down at him, feeling as though she should say something else, but at the same time figuring she’s said enough. It’s all on him now, she thinks. She’s given him as much guidance as she can; now she can only trust him, and support whatever he decides.</p>
<p>“Take your time,” she tells him.</p>
<p>He exhales through his nose, a sound surprisingly close to a laugh, all things considered. “You’ve waited on me enough as it is. I won’t be long.”</p>
<p>That puts a glimmer of hope in Byleth’s heart. She gives his shoulder a light squeeze before turning away, but his voice stops her again at the door.</p>
<p>“Professor.” She turns back to find him sitting up, but there’s a long pause as he chooses his words. Finally, haltingly, he settles on “Thank you… for staying.”</p>
<p>She isn’t sure whether he’s referring to last night or the last few months, but she feels a sudden swell of gratitude herself. What if she didn’t stay in either of those cases? In hindsight, it was largely a matter of chance that she came upon this path—not just coming by his room yesterday, not even her well-timed awakening on the day of the Millenium Festival months ago, but long before then, that fateful morning when she was given a choice between three houses.</p>
<p><i>Was</i> it merely chance?</p>
<p>Byleth smiles, warm and a little sad. “You’ve always been someone I felt I could believe in. That hasn’t changed.” She opens the door and sends him one last look. “I hope you can feel the same about yourself.”</p>
<p>She leaves him with that thought, trusting it’s enough.</p>
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